


The Ardent and The Bard

by smzippyy



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Adventure, Bards, D&D, Dream World, Dreams, Dungeons and Dragons, Fantasy, Feywild, Immortality, Magic, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original setting, Psionics, Sardonic Gnome Girl, Scarecrow - Freeform, Steampunk, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smzippyy/pseuds/smzippyy
Summary: Ever wonder where your dreams go when you wake? Imagine if they drifted off, coalescing with the dreams of others to create a constantly shifting realm of imagination and memories.That is the realm that Shade the Scarecrow and Cole the Wanderer set off to explore. What begins as a simple research expedition escalates into a fight for survival and revelation.New chapters added every friday!





	1. Of Blade and Chain

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work based on a D&D campaign I ran with my friends for 4 years (though it is not a "campaign journal"). It's part of a series of novellas I wrote for my players to let them know what their characters are up to. Naturally this means that it was written with the intent that the reader was already familiar with the world. I have done my best to adapt the story for new readers and included footnotes for lore that does not outright speak for itself.  
> If you enjoy this, consider going to my main blog (taleofchampions.wordpress.com) where you can read the appendices and see new chapters early.  
> Thank you for your time.  
> ~-~smzippyy

The Iron Bugle was the kind of bar that people die in. The tavern had seen countless deaths. People dying from bleeding out from a broken bottle to the throat. Dying as the result of being skewered from wooden stakes made from chair and table legs. Once, a gnome was drowned in a keg. It didn’t matter of course. Death on the plane of Mourning never mattered. As long as you were supposed to be there.

It was a type of afterlife, the plane of Mourning. The name was a complete misnomer. The result of some bastardized translation of Draconic to Elven then to Common. The original draconic term for the plane translated roughly to “Place of the gloriously lived”. This was later turned to “Realm of those we regret the loss of” because elves can’t state anything simply. That word sounded like the common word for “The expression of deep sorrow for someone who has died” and so the plane was named Mourning.

It was the realm of war. The righteous souls of the valiant who died in glorious battle. The collected military might of every age, every race, was gathered here for eternal war. That’s why the deaths in the Iron Bugle didn’t matter. If you die in the realm of Mourning you were reborn back to your respective camp to rejoin the battle at your leisure. Again, that was only if you were meant to be in the realm of Mourning.

That day two patrons walked into the Iron Bugle who were not meant to be there. One was an anomaly of time, the other an anomaly of faith. The first was tall and slender. Hallmarks of a half-elf. His outfit consisted of a dyed-green leather vest, a white shirt, a cloak that concealed most of this, and his favorite hat. The pack on his back was slack, as if only a few objects lay within it. The second outsider was slightly shorter. He wore a hooded-uniform of blue cloth, a cross between the outfit of a high-ranking soldier and a sage. Symbols of his chosen god glinted from his chest as well as both his shoulders. The hood was pulled up, covering his round head which swiveled every which way to fully take in the bar.

Those in the bar were taken aback by the appearance of the second patron. He had the build of a man, but was clearly not that. For starters he lacked a nose. Secondly his face was made of grey cloth. It was too tightly stretched around the head to be a mask. He looked like a living scarecrow.

The scarecrow’s companion paid them no mind. He had already taken a seat at the bar. He was writing something down in a leather-bound journal. It looked weathered and old. He ordered a drink for himself. The house special of Berserkers’ grog. When the order came he didn’t drink it. Too busy scribbling in his journal.

Scarecrow stood by him facing the rest of the bar, his red eyes darted from person to person. An elven duelist with one eye. An Orc with a massive bow on his back. A Halfling sporting a Warhammer that had the word “Hobbler” carved into the head. The scarecrow wasn’t just seeing them, he was also feeling them. His natural clairvoyance for emotion made the inner feelings of these warriors as plain to him as the features on their faces. The elven warrior was tense at the arrival of the two strangers, as unexpected visitors usually meant trouble and he preferred the bar remain neutral territory. The orc welcomed the idea of new targets. The Halfling was drunk, which made reading his emotions like trying to discern shapes in oatmeal.

“Take a seat”

The scarecrow’s head snapped to his companion. He had finally set down the notebook and began sipping his grog. He was examining the large horn above the bar. Probably the place’s namesake. His eyes shifted to the scarecrow.

“I’m not tired. I prefer to stand”

The scarecrow spoke honestly. There was too much activity in this one spot for him to remain idle. Too many swirling and complex emotions emanating from its dead populace. It excited him.

“You unnerve them” The half-elf said between sips of his drink.

“So do you” The scarecrow said.

“That’s because my reputation precedes me. They know who I am. They’re still trying to figure out what you are”

Without looking away from his friend the scarecrow sent out his mind to survey the collective thoughts of the people in the bar. Though he couldn’t read their thoughts like a true Psion he could make educated guesses based on their emotional state. By this point all in the Iron Bugle had taken notice of the scarecrow and his friend. Both were regarded with a mixture of anxiety and mystery. But the split was mostly fifty-fifty as to who was the greater source of interest. Conversation in the bar had practically stopped.

“Take a seat” The half-elf repeated “It’ll be a while before he gets here”

The scarecrow didn’t budge. The Halfling with the hammer was starting to sober up. His thoughts were becoming clearer…

“I’ll tell you about some psionic generals” The half-elf said, setting down his drink.

That got the scarecrow’s attention. The halfling’s thoughts were abandoned in favor of turning full attention to his companion.

“Thought that would do the trick” The half-elf said with a slight smirk.

“Sit down and I’ll tell you about Gorcha of the Many Minds”

The scarecrow was instantly seated next to his companion. He felt the whole room collectively relax. An emotional sigh of relief.

True to his word, the half-elf regaled the scarecrow with the exploits of the only famous Orc Psion. A calculating and cold general capable of communicating and coordinating dozens of soldiers at once. Assaults by him were said to resemble swarms of ants attack helpless prey. What’s more his abilities were self-taught. Orc Psions usually are as they rarely have masters to teach them, or their abilities are mistaken for something else. A mental note was made to investigate further into orc Psions, their rarity and favor for oral tradition may’ve obscured lost or unknown techniques.

“You think he might be on this plane?” the scarecrow asked.

“It’s possible” The storyteller had finished his drink. “I doubt any god would have claimed him. Learning that his abilities were not the blessing of a god made him doubt the power of divines. “

He waived off the bartender’s attempt to refill the beverage “Still. A commander of the hordes like that…he might not have the most sterling reputation. Might be in hell. Probably Cania”

He opened his journal to reread some earlier note “Or, he could still be in the Shadowfell, putting off judgement for fear of such a fate”

The scarecrow sighed. The uncertainty of the afterlife made tracking down lost lore like this, lore known to only one soul, tedious and difficult. If Gorcha was in Cania it would be too great a risk to brave the hells just to talk to him. He would likely be indisposed as the result of some punishment. If he was in the Shadowfell then finding his soul, let alone speaking to it, would be a long process that the scarecrow wasn’t certain he had the patience for. Perhaps if they ever returned to the Shadowfell they could-

The scarecrow straightened up. He was picking up two new presences. Both were of malevolence, an emotion the scarecrow was unfortunately familiar with. One was the more eager, certain, and bloodthirsty. The other was more resigned. His cruel intent was clear, but he masked it behind a steely certainty in his abilities.

“There’s someone-“The scarecrow began.

He was cut off by a sudden blast of black smoke from the doorway. It was an inky darkness that filled every open space of the bar. The building was filled with sound as weapons were drawn and chairs shifted from their owners leaping to their feet. A few shouted in surprise. The two outsiders were already on their feet. The scarecrow put his hand to his arm. There a thick band topped with a small metal triangle was wrapped tightly around his wooden wrist. From the base of the triangle a shining blue blade slid out. A blade of pure mind power. A psiblade. The blade was about the length of his forearm and pulsed with energy. The small amount of light it normally gave off was dampened by the smoke.

 _Magical smoke then_ the scarecrow thought.

It didn’t matter, the scarecrow’s senses were sharp enough to detect the two malicious figures outside. He felt a rush past him. His companion had bolted for the door. He felt the impact as the half-elf crashed into one of the attackers. Heard the slam of his foot to their gut.

The scarecrow didn’t want to be left out so he charged the second figure. His target was distracted by the half-elf. He thrust with his psiblade at their abdomen, certain to hit a major organ. He was surprised when he detected awareness on the figure’s brainwave. In a split-second his target shifted just enough that the scarecrow’s psiblade only grazed his left-side. He felt a strong hand grip the back of his head. In a forceful shove the momentum of his attack was turned against him and he was tossed out of the bar and into the red desert of Mourning.

“He’s a disciple of Ioun1” a grizzled voice behind him said. It was the man he just tried to kill, the reason why his face was buried in red dust.

“He’s more than a disciple!” It was the voice of the half-elf. It was strained, he was clearly in combat with the other attacker. “Tell em’ Shade”

Shade picked himself up from the dirt. His friend was caught in a grappling match with an imposing hobgoblin. The goblinoid was dressed in red splint mail with a black trim. He wielded a wicked bastard sword made of a crimson metal. Despite fighting each other the two turned their attention to Shade, who had once again activated his psiblade. He detected the presence behind him charging, though he heard no sound. A reversal of the previous situation. Shade spun around and caught the attacker’s blade with his own. It was a bugbear. Scarred, dressed in black leather, his expression gave nothing away to his inner thoughts. Shade’s clairvoyance told him that the bugbear was uncertain of what threat his enemy held. Shade decided to inform him.

“I am her champion”

That got the creature’s attention. The uncertainty gave way to surprise, doubt, and eagerness before finally resting on spite. Shade was confused. The bugbear must be either foolishly confident, or a greater threat than Shade had imagined. The bugbear leaped back. Shade had a better view of him now. Bugbear’s had a height comparable to dwarves. This bugbear was slightly taller, leaner, but what exposed flesh he had rippled with muscle. His stance was that of a practiced combatant. The hand that didn’t have a dagger in it shifted to his back. From there he withdrew a short metal pole attached to a spiked orb on a chain. A flail, not the typical weapon of a rogue. He whipped it around, gaining threatening momentum with each swing.

“I figured as much” Shade’s companion said as he launched his foe with a sharp kick.  
The hobgoblin slammed into the side of the Iron Bugle. The smoke in the bar had dissipated. The patrons were interested in the fight, but had sheathed their weapons when they realized this was purely between the goblinoids and the outsiders. Apathy to such things was a side-effect of living on Mourning.

“Shade” The half-elf said with a side glance to his associate. “Allow me to introduce General Redblade of the great horde, dark champion2 of Bane, and terror to the dwarven kingdom. The bugbear, if I remember correctly, would be his spymaster Blackflail, son of Hruggek, the god of bugbear’s and ambushes”

“You’re quite good at giving titles, Wanderer” Redblade barked at the half-elf.  
“A horrible defect of my trade” The bard said with a bow.

“Dark champion? So he fought the original order3?” Shade asked, recalling the chronicle on such events written by the very man stood next to him.

“Yes. I never fought them personally. I was at the Hall fending off cobalt dragons and beast giants.” He smirked in remembrance. “Kriv and Azeroth4 killed the two of you. So I take it this is one of those ‘Revenge by association deals?’”

“Partly. No champion of Bane would pass up the opportunity of combating a legendary figure like yourself Cole the Wanderer”

Shade felt the emotions of those watching from the bar shift. Whatever suspicions they had of the half-elf’s identity had been cemented. They were more eager than ever to view the impending fight.

“I thank you for respecting the moniker. I take it you and Nosib5 have gotten along famously?”

Redblade spat at the name “The rage of meeting him on the battlefield has not dampened from the first time we clashed at the gates of Morad’Quar6” He sliced the air with his red sword “Him and his insufferable imp.”

“So why attack me? Time moves differently for dead souls, but four and a half centuries is still a long time to nurse a grudge”

“A grudge? Your order denied me my conquest. Killed in the prime of my prowess by the herald of a dead god7…a grudge does not begin to describe the hate I hold for you and your allies”

“And what of Blackflail? Loyal, even in death?”

The bugbear grunted in the affirmative. “We had little time to plan our attack as news of your presence in Mourning reached us only hours ago. ‘The ally of Captain Nosib was seen going to the Iron Bugle with a companion in tow’”

“I had hoped for another of the champions, or even a son” Redblade hissed.

“Sorry, my son is very content with his detective agency” Cole remarked.

“So you’re stuck with me” Shade followed-up.

“So we are. Let us see if you have not gotten content in your immortality, Wanderer” Redblade changed his stance. He was through bantering.

Cole sighed. It was not the result of dismay at the turn of events. More of a sign that he was getting too old for these sort of encounters with old enemies.

“Take the bugbear. He’s a master of subterfuge and misdirection, a holdover from his father. Should be useless against you” Cole said as an aside to Shade.

Shade nodded and stared down his foe. The bugbear wasn’t stupid. Shade detected that he was rapidly calculating how best to attack the champion of Ioun. He wasn’t producing any answers. Redblade was ready to attack, but one detail made him pause.

“Will you not draw your weapon?”

Cole’s smirk couldn’t grow any bigger.

“Don’t need it”

He blitzed the hobgoblin. His kick pelted into Redblade’s stomach. The follow-up kick was blocked by the general’s blade. The goblinoid was tough, a single kick from Cole was usually enough to knock a mortal man on his ass. Cole was caught off guard by Blackflail’s knife slashing his cloak. Shade attacked the bugbear’s flank. Blackflail was prepared this time. He wrapped the chain of his Morningstar around the scarecrow’s weapon arm. Shade was no match for the bugbear’s physical strength as his arm was pulled away leaving him open to a pounding head-butt from Blackflail.

Cole was pinned against the bar, with the hobgoblin’s arm crushing his throat. He wormed away in time to avoid the incoming thrust from Redblade’s sword. On the wall he had slapped a divine rune, one of his many, many capabilities. This rune in particular stood for Gust. The blast of wind that burst from the rune knocked Redblade back. Cole followed up with more kicks, but to his credit Redblade regained his composure quick enough to combat them. Shade meanwhile had gotten the upper hand on Blackflail. He deduced that the spymaster’s composure was the key to his nimble and quick reactions. Shade began fueling his attacks with emotional energy of the most careless of passions. Blind rage, endless despair, vain desperation. Every time the bugbear made contact to deflect attacks he was weakening his mental state.

Redblade was making low swings. A wise strategy to upset Cole’s kick-centric combat. At this point Cole’s strikes looked like the dance orcs would make under a blood-moon. Then Cole threw Redblade a curveball. He punched him. A sickening crack rang out as the Wanderer sucker-punched the dark champion. Either a credit to Cole’s strength or just how much Redblade was caught off-guard, the goblin commander flew backwards at the strike, crashing onto his back.

This turn of events did not help Blackflail’s breaking sanity. Pressured between a foe who could read his attacks, and the legend who had just bested his superior without a weapon, his attacks started getting sloppy. His flail usually struck with such precision, now it was inches off target. The complex dance of his fighting style, passed down by his father and honed in battle against dwarven armies, was being reduced to desperate swinging. He couldn’t think straight. The grin on the scarecrow grew more sadistic with each blink. The world was falling apart around him. He was certain he was going to be attacked from all angles at any moment.

This of course was all Shade’s doing. Paranoia was usually the best bet when dealing with rogues and spies. Most were already paranoid so it was an emotion easy to exploit. The first time Blackflail’s desperate attacks swung at empty air the battle was over. With his unarmed hand Shade produced a concentrated psionic pulse at Blackflail’s dagger. The blade was ripped from his hand. The flail that was his namesake wrapped around the scarecrow’s blade and this time his strength failed him in the face of overwhelming odds. Shade reeled his blade arm back and with it came the spymaster’s flail. It slid off harmlessly to the ground. In one swift motion Shade whipped his arm back and buried his blade in the bugbear’s skull.

Blackflail fell to his knees. For a moment time stood still. His body took on the texture of the red sand around them. Pieces of him crumbled off. A strong gust of wind picked up, and he was carried away in a cloud of dust. It was what became of all who died in Mourning.

“He’ll probably want to avoid battle for a few days. I may’ve gone overboard on his mind.” Shade remarked as he retracted his blade.

Redblade was not yet dead. He was getting to his feet. Halfway up a spiked chain wrapped around his neck and lashed him onto his back again. The chain seemed to have a mind of its own as it snaked around his struggling body. When it had covered him the chain receded at lightning speed, the tiny blades cutting many laceration onto the goblinoid’s body. He gasped as his body turned to dust in an instant.

The chain’s owner stomped onto the mound of sand that was once Redblade. He was a Minotaur. Weathered, scarred, dressed in heavy plate, and grinning like a bastard. The chain was wrapped around his left arm. In his right was a Morningstar the size of a human head. Nosib, the Captain of Chains.

On his shoulder sat his constant companion, Xork the Imp. A squat red creature, with angled horns, and a mouth of pointed teeth. To anyone Xork would be the hallmark of diminutive evil. Not to Nosib.

“How long were you watching us for?” Cole asked as he greeted his old friend.

“Spotted Redblade and his crony from the hill back there through a spyglass. Decided to take my time coming to your aide” Nosib gave a hearty laugh.

“That was a sweet right-hook” Xork chimed in. His voice grated on the ears of those not used to it, Shade included.

Nosib scratched his chin. “About that…have you just given up on using weapons entirely? Did Azeroth finally convert you to the monastic arts?”

“I didn’t train for centuries not to use my blade” Cole said “But being hands-free offers more versatility with my other talents. Plus it’s easier to switch from pen-and-paper to hand-to-hand when out in the field. Trust me. If my sword is out, then I intend for my target to die”

“The years have been good to you at least” Nosib said as he thumped his fellow champion “So you’re here for your new book?”

“’Walking the Planes’ I intend to do for the cosmos what I did for Domhanda with ‘The Traveler’s Almanac’”

Cole had pulled out his journal again and was writing in it. His eyes fixated on the sand that had been trying to kill him moments ago.

“And the bastion of knowledge?” Xork said with a side thumb to Shade.

“He’s my assistant in this endeavor” Cole waved a hand at the scarecrow.

“I wished to see the world before returning to the grand university8” Shade spoke-up. “In exchange for my aide Cole offered to show me the cosmos”

“-And the occasional psionic lore when you won’t take a damn seat” Cole remarked.

“As long as we're here, let’s grab a pint at the Bugle” Laughed Nosib “Xork and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know about our little plane of paradise.”

With that the party regressed into the bar. The other patrons cleared out. Between two of the Order of Champions, a herald of Ioun, and the smart-mouthed imp there was a great chance that Redblade and his spymaster wouldn’t be the only ones to attack the bar out of attempted revenge.

* * *

##### Footnotes

  1. Goddess of Learning and Knowledge
  2. Appendix B: Dark Champions
  3. Appendix B: Order of Champions
  4. Kriv Blackfire and Azeroth Stern. Members of the First Order
  5. Nosib the Chained Captain. Member of the First Order. Died holding back Redblade's assault on Morad'Quar. Was later revived by the dwarves as repayment for the Order's efforts
  6. Capital of the Dwarven Kingdom of Anchordrum. It was the last holdout against Redblade's forces before the Order arrived with aid
  7. Kriv, the Order member that killed Redblade, was the last worshiper of the ancient dragonborn god Garyx. Kriv would go on to restore Garyx's godhood, fusing with him to become the new god of the west Krivyx
  8. Ioun's Academy in the seventh layer of Heaven




	2. A Feast and Friends

Nosib was a gracious host. He took his guests to all of the hotspots of Mourning. The grand camps of the separate war parties. The Rusted Sea where naval battles were fought between the great admirals of history. The keeps and castles that were sieged daily. Coliseums where one-on-one battles were fought between legendary soldiers. Boiling forges and smithies that produced the instruments of war. It was journey of several weeks as Cole was particular about seeing all that the plane had to offer. All the while he kept his journal in hand. They were attacked a few times. Either as part of the game of war, or assassins like Redblade and Blackflail. Such attacks were rarely a problem between the three epic heroes.

The tour was ended at the feasting hall of Nosib’s personal company of soldiers. It was a force he had garnered out of respect and conquest. Not as massive as the longer operating and more renowned generals of the plane, but a respectable force nonetheless. Their banner hung over the hall’s entrance. It was of a Minotaur’s skull with metallic horns. The horns were wrapped in spiked chains. It was a banner reminiscent of the legion he commanded in life. The Chained Legion of mercenaries Nosib formed after leaving the Order of Champions.

The soldiers all welcomed Nosib’s return with much revelry. Fresh kegs were opened, roasted pig was brought out, and shields were hammered creating a cacophonous harmony. Nosib took his seat at the head of the table with Shade and Cole beside him as guests of honor. Xork sat on a small throne carved into Nosib’s seat.

“A feast! A farewell feast for my friend!” The minotaur’s voice echoed through the great hall.

“This won’t be the last time I see you Nosib” Cole smiled.

“Ah, but it will be the last for a while!” Nosib said as he took a mighty swig of ale.

“Mostly he’s just looking for an excuse to break out the good alcohol” Xork sneered. He ducked the incoming goblet thrown at him by Nosib.

“You’ve gotten good at avoiding injury, for an imp” Shade remarked, staring up at the red lump.

Xork shifted in his seat “I died once before1. Didn’t like it. The Champs pleaded for my life and brought me back2”

“With Pazzuzu3” Shade said grimly.

“Well they didn’t know it was him at the time. They were too blinded by tears that their mascot was dead!”

“Come to think of it” Cole said as he chewed thoughtfully on his food “With all of the schemes and conspiracies that Pazzuzu laid in place for his take over how do we know that you’re not one of them? It seems surprising that if he was as sinister as he revealed himself to be he wouldn’t have taken pity on a poor dead imp”

“Don’t give anyone ideas bard boy! Pazzy probably recognized style when he saw it.” Xork stretched out, reclining on his personal throne.

“It’s been five years since the Obyrinths were stopped” Shade said as he looked vacantly out a window.

“A more glorious battle was never had!” Nosib roared. “Three cheers for the glory of all who took part in it!”

The chorus of cheers filled the hall.

“So where will you head next? What yonder shore calls to the wanderer?” Nosib turned to Cole “Shadowfell? Feywild? The heavens themselves?”

“We’ve tackled most of the Feywild. The Shadowfell was what I was working on when the Star Reapers nabbed me4. As for the heavens…that’s a daunting endeavor. I think I’ll save it for now.”

"You were the most traveled out of all of us" Nosib nodded "Did you ever expect to...?"

"Still be doing this four centuries on?" Cole finished the question "No"

Nosib gave the slow nod of someone realizing they're drunk. His large brown eyes turned somber.

"Being alive, you can still experience the new. What thrilling things you must've seen. I can't quite remember a time when I wasn't here. I wake to the sounds of cannons, and rest to the sound of clashing steel"

Nosib gave a vague sigh. Shade reached out to comfort him, but Cole shook his head.

"-And I wouldn't want it any other way!" Nosib shouted.

As if to punctuate Nosib's words an explosion shook the hall. There was a moment of silence as the inhabitants waited for a following attack, which there was. The deafening sound of cannon blasts stormed through the feast hall.

“An attack during my feast?” Nosib growled “Bold _and_ foolish! To arms my soldiers! Let’s give these party crashers a thrashing!”

The soldiers echoed his approval and charged out of the hall with him. All except for Xork, Cole, and Shade.

“You’re not going to go with?” Cole questioned the lounging imp.

“Nah, you get used to the sound of battle. I’ve found it to be rather soothing at the end of a long day” Xork yawned and closed his eyes “You best skedaddle though, by the sound of those cannon I’d say it’s some legion of imperial dragonborn. Nosib’s got this.”

Cole nodded and reached into his pack. From it he produced an ancient map. He unraveled it and looked it over. It was his map of the cosmos. The key to his dimensional travel. Most mages relied on rituals and gateways to pass between worlds. Cole had figured out shortcuts in the fabric of time and space. He could go anywhere he wanted.

“Always so difficult to tell how best to leave these demiplanes” He muttered.

“Where _are_ we going next anyway?” Shade asked absentmindedly.

He was feeling the battle outside. Xork had guessed correctly that it was imperial dragonborn. From their emotions Shade guessed this was a revenge strike for some sleight Nosib had done them earlier. Whatever it was, it was personal to their commander.

“I have an idea. We’d need to stop at my son’s place first” Cole said as he wrapped up the map. “I need to something I gave him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see me”

He stood up from the feasting table and approached the nearest wall. With a wave of his hand a doorway of inky blackness appeared. He beckoned Shade to follow him.

“Farewell Xork. Try not to die, we don’t have any extra-dimensional beings to bring you back if you do”

“Yeah, yeah” The imp said, his eyes still closed.

The bard smiled. Shade was the first to step through the doorway. It welcomed him with no resistance. Cole followed shortly after. The battle outside was still raging. Between cannon blasts the cackling of Nosib could be heard as he commanded his forces into battle. A fitting world for one so gloriously lived.

* * *

##### Footnotes

  1. During the battle with Nobody (Appendix B) Xork saved Nosib's life at the cost of his own.
  2. Once the final dark champion was killed, Pazzuzu3 appeared before the Order in the guise of the angle Pazrael. He offered them a single boon. Nosib asked for Xork to be restored to life.
  3. The leader of the Obyrinths (Appendix C). Able to grant wishes as long as someone said his name three times. One of the most ancient sources of evil Domhanda has known.
  4. The Star Reapers (Appendix C) held Cole captive for 17 years to force his cooperation against the Obyrinths. While Cole was willing to help in most matters, he would not reveal the information that they truly wanted: The location of Nerull's scythe.




	3. Father and Son

The cool night air was welcoming to Minceraft. It helped him think. The case he had been working on was nearing its end. The other day an orc woman burst into his office demanding that he find her human husband. Minceraft had given the case the basic steps. Question the man's coworkers at house Vadalis. Go to his usual hangouts. Coax unhelpful witnesses.

The man was clearly in the midst mid-life crisis. He worked at the animal pens for Vadalis. As the year dragged on he had been volunteering for more dangerous assignments. Taking care of the exotic animals even Vadalis had difficulty taming. Either a sign of a death wish, or a fool with no sense of mortality. The other clues pointed to the latter. Expensive new possessions, more active nightlife, and increasing distance between him and facts he would consider his “old life”. Which meant he was either dead from stupidity, or, far more likely, an affair.

He came to door he was looking for. It was in one of The Everron’s many shadowed back alleys. The building in question was a seedy sort of hotel, long abandoned by the owners during the madness of the Tarkannan1 assault. Just the kind of place for a man desperate to display his youth would take the person he was committing infidelity with.

Sierra fluttered next to him. She landed on his shoulder and crossed her legs. The winter chill mellowed her out. That’s what happened to pixies from the summer territory of the Feywild. Her normally active demeanor was replaced by indifference.

“It’s okay my dear. Last stop of the night. Promise”

She sighed in response.

Minceraft opened the door. Clothes covered the floor. One set belonging to a man who couldn’t afford them, and the other belonging to a woman he likely also couldn’t afford. The detective’s eyes panned up to see the bed in the middle of the room. There was his man. Unfortunately, he was dead. The half-orc woman he was with had her mouth clenched tightly around his throat. Just as Minceraft had suspected.

He cleared his throat.

The woman snapped to make eye contact with him. Her red eyes flared. Her mouth was still dripping with blood. To any lesser man it would’ve been a sight to make them rush home to change their trousers. Minceraft simply reached inside his coat.

The vampire shrieked and dashed at him.

And he put a bullet between her eyes.

She crashed into the ground with a quiet thud. Not quite dead, she shivered on the ground, unable to move. The holy water that the bullet had been soaked with burned in her skull. Quietly, Minceraft flipped her onto her back. He reached into his coat again and produced a wooden amulet in the shape of a copper sun. He muttered something in elven and the symbol lit up. White light emanated from it like a beacon, illuminating the whole room and the alley outside. The vampire writhed in pain. This was no ordinary light. This was sunlight. Pure, horrible, sunlight.

In seconds she was turned to ash. Minceraft muttered the elven code word and the light vanished. He sighed as he stowed the symbol of Pelor. He was too late to save the man. At least the half-orc had not finished her task or he would’ve had two vampire’s to kill.

The walk back home didn’t take him long. The Everron was as noisy as ever. Luckily Minceraft had recently moved his business to the quieter side of town. It was easier on his sleep schedule. Sierra was busy writing out a note for his client. It was to inform the woman of her late husband’s location, as well as his fate. She had already written one out for the local guard. Minceraft would likely be talking with them both the following morning.

They arrived at their home/office. It was located on the top floor of a five-story apartment building. Sierra flittered off of his shoulder to deliver the letters.

“Don’t take too long. I’ll get a fire going” Minceraft assured her.

She gave him a slight smile in response.

He trudged up the three flights of stairs to the fourth floor. He had bought out all the rooms on this floor for his business and living quarters. That wasn’t saying much when there were only two apartments on each floor.

He headed into the office first. His junior partner was at his station. He was reclined with his feet on the desk, allowing his long black hair to fall behind him.

“Hey boss. The night been good to ya?”

“Hello Lock. I found the man, if that’s what you were asking. He was in the arms of a vampire”

“Shit. Good thing you brought that sun symbol” Lock sat up “How’d you know that the woman he was seeing was planning on sucking his blood?”

“It had all the classic signs of a vampire seductress. Despite evidence to the contrary the man was clearly loyal to his wife, but his heightened desire for danger made him easy prey to the vampire’s mind domination. They were only ever seen at night and the woman had no former lovers to speak of. Also, she didn’t show up on a detect living spell”

Minceraft hung his coat “How did your case go?”

“Fine. Fine. Tracked down the missing shipment to a rogue member of house Lyrander. We scrapped on the deck of his ship before I knocked him into the water and made off with the crate. It’s over there” He pointed to a wooden crate sitting in the corner.

“Good work” Minceraft remarked. He had taken off his bowler hat now.

“Your Dad is here”

That made Minceraft pause.

“He’s in your apartment. Showed up an hour ago. Said he’d wait for you to get back”

Lock stood up “I know you don’t exactly have daddy issues, but I do know that whatever the two of you get up to will be weird and likely life threatening, hence why I'm clearing out. Plus I need to go tuck in Rachel.”

Minceraft didn’t move. His mind was racing with possibilities. Absentmindedly he asked “How is she?”

“Hmm? She’s doing great. She loves her new school. Thanks again for that loan. I really wanted her to go to a nice place. Somewhere she can pick up a worthy trade”

“You’ll pay me back eventually” Minceraft said, still not looking at him “I have faith in you”

Lock nodded in agreement and went out the door. Leaving Minceraft to contemplate what his father’s arrival meant. Was he in trouble? Did he need aide? Was it something to do with mother?

He silently locked up his office and proceeded across the hall to his apartment. Inside he found his father, the famous Cole the Wanderer, sitting in a padded chair with a book. Cole looked up at the arrival of his son.

“Minceraft. Sorry. We let ourselves in” He held up the astral map for Minceraft to see “Lock heard us inside and was suspicious. Shade put his mind at ease.”

Minceraft’s head turned to the sentient scarecrow at his dinner table. Shade gave a small wave.

“How’s he doing?” Shade asked, a look of concern of his cloth face.

“Lock? He’s doing well for himself. A better state than when I hired him. His particular style of investigation has proved useful for certain cases. His daughter is attending a Sivis trade school. The focus on her and his job have given him stability he was lacking. He doesn’t drink as much as he once did”

Minceraft’s eyes had not left his father, “You’ve been in the realm of Mourning, correct? The red sand on your leggings gives it away. As well as the minotaur hairs on your clothes.”

“Correct as always, Minceraft” Cole stood up to stow his book. “How’s Sierra?”

“She’s well. The cold doesn’t agree with her. She’s delivering correspondence now for a case I just completed”

“Seen your mother at all?”

“Not since that business with the Far Realm”

“Figured”

The two men stood there staring at each other. To any outsider they’d unfortunately assume that they were brothers, or worse, that Minceraft was the father in this situation. Shade detected no animosity between the two, but there was little to-no of the kindred love between father and son either. The men respected the other’s capabilities clearly. Shade knew from traveling with Cole that he had nothing but good things to say for about his son. But it often felt that, when encountering each other, the two men called the other their respective title out of habit than as a term of familial endearment.

“Why are you here?” Minceraft asked finally. It was more polite than “What do you want?” which would’ve been more direct and honest.

Cole exhaled. “I need the Masks of Lucidity”

“Oh” Minceraft muttered. “You’re going _there_ then?”

“My curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I’m sure Shade will be fascinated by it”

“Through the lake then? Past the dragon?”

“It is the only for sure way”

“Excuse me” Shade drew their attention “I feel out of the loop here. What you two are talking about? Where are we going Cole?”

“Aisling’Am” Cole said. “Realm of Dreams”

* * *

##### Footnotes

  1. House Tarkannan was led in secret by the Obyrinth Khyber. Khyber's power could only be awakened by a great loss of life. To that end he induced madness in his many followers, compelling them to kill the inhabitants of the Everron. Khyber was never awakened, but the damage to the Everron lingers.




	4. Dragon and Dreams

Minceraft got the fire going. He had promised Sierra he would after all.

“The Masks of Lucidity provide the wearer for complete control of their dreams. A paired set will allow two people to share one another’s dream” He said.

“It will provide us an added level of stability in Aisling’Am” Cole said.

“Normally the realm is a swirling mass directed by the subconscious thoughts of those in it. The masks will allow us to repress such thoughts and keep the realm within our control”

“Makes sense” Shade said, staring into the fire “But why do you own them Minceraft?”  
An awkward silence fell across the room. Shade detected discomfort and anxiety on the two souls before him.

“They were a gift from me” Cole finally spoke.

“That doesn’t answer my question” Shade said.

“Sierra is mute” Minceraft said, not looking at the scarecrow “She is also less than a foot tall. We are…incompatible for many things that come naturally for other pairings”

Shade suddenly got the gist of what he was saying “Oh…I see…”

Minceraft cleared his throat. “You are free to take the masks. Sierra and I can live without them”

He turned away from the fire “She’ll be put out about it. I’m certain it will all be for show. She likely won’t have the energy to get too worked up about it”

“I’ll return the masks when we’re done. Shouldn’t be more than a few days. Time moves slowest in Aisling’Am” Cole said, standing up.

“Thank you” Minceraft said, his eyes finally making contact with his father’s “Will you stay for dinner?”

Cole regarded his son. “Why not? It has been a while since we last talked. Do you mind Shade?”

“I don’t eat” Shade said with a shrug “Don’t sleep either, so I could care less”

Minceraft nodded “I’ll break out the good wine then”

Within the hour Sierra had arrived home. Her shock at the unexpected guests mixed with the news about the masks created a small fit of spite, but as Minceraft predicted she calmed down as the temperature dropped. Shade took it as her merely keeping up appearances. Minceraft toiled away in the kitchen adjacent to the sitting room. Sierra flitted back and forth between checking on him and keeping an eye on the guests. Shade and Cole took their seats at Minceraft’s small dinner table. Cole reached into his pack and produced an emerald green tome.

“Our objective for tomorrow is reaching the lake of dreams” He said as he thumbed through the book.

“It’s in the Feywild and is the only stable portal to Aisling’Am. A gate spell can get you there instantly, but due to the nature of the realm you will have no clue where you’ll be. The lake offers the ability to enter the realm more securely. Think of the difference between stepping onto a new island from the boat, and dropping onto a random spot from an airship”

He found the page he was looking for and showed it to Shade. It was an illustration of a glittering lake set in a forest of pine trees. In the background a massive dragon slept by the lake.

“The lake is guarded by the dragon Razcoreth. He’s an emerald dragon, and the only dragon archfey. He serves the Gloaming Court1. So we’ll need to bargain with him, or his master, the Prince of Hearts”

Sierra huffed at the prince’s name.

“Not a fan?” Cole looked to her with a knowing smile.

Sierra folded her arms and shook her head. Her face reflected disgust.

“I can understand that”

“Will we need to fight the dragon?” Shade asked. He had tangled with both Archfey and dragons before, both were grueling battles. Having an enemy that was both sounded troublesome.

“It’s possible. Even with the Prince’s approval we’d need to coax the dragon to let us in. Luckily, my silver tongue has not failed me yet”

Minceraft emerged from the kitchen. He held a large brass pot that was emanating steam and sweet smells. He set it on the table with a ladle.

“Its stew made with remorhaz meat. Lock’s brother directed me to a market stall by the wharf that sells juveniles. Apparently it is a popular choice at his bar.” He said, filling a tiny bowl for Sierra.

Sierra took the bowl and sat at a smaller table set onto the dining table. It was originally part of a playset for dolls. A well-crafted set to be sure. Minceraft spared no expense when it came to making sure Sierra felt at home.

Minceraft and Cole soon filled their own bowls. Shade read more on the lake of dreams. Its counterpoint in the mortal plane was what was once known as the Lake of Souls, one of a few spots where souls of the dead passed over to the Shadowfell. Shade was not certain how he would operate in the realm of dreams. He did not dream. He physically could not. Even if he wanted to. He had imagination, certainly. But that was an active part of his mind. To close your eyes and let your subliminal thoughts control what you see…it was such a foreign concept to him.

“….And when the dust finally settled we saw that the cannon ball had actually wedged itself between Nosib’s horns. Without missing a beat he stared down the dwarf and said ‘I believe you’ve misplaced this’” Cole was recounting an incident from their time in Mourning.

“I would like to meet Nosib someday. I only ever met Vedek2” Minceraft said as he poured himself another glass of wine.

“And Azeroth”

“I try to forget about ‘Uncle Azeroth’s’ training exercises” Minceraft said, grimacing at the memory.

“Yes. I still remember the sight of him dropping you off that balcony”

Sierra shot Minceraft a bewildered look.

“I was sixteen. We were on a mountain. Cole saved me with a spell before I reached the ground. According to Azeroth it was a lesson in how I should have faith in others” Minceraft explained, with a quick glance to his father.

“I’m going to level with you son. I’m fairly certain that Azeroth was just covering his ass with that answer. Knowing him, he was genuinely curious about what would happen if he threw my son off a very high place"

The whole table laughed at this, save for the still shocked Sierra.

As the moon rose high in the sky, the fireplace’s embers began to dim. Sierra flew off to the bedroom. Cole and Shade were preparing to leave.

“It was nice seeing you again” Minceraft said to the two of them.

He had the masks in hand. To Shade they resembled small white towels. They weren’t wet, but they glistened in the moonlight. Cole took the masks and carefully stowed them in his traveling bag.

“Don’t say goodbye just yet. Like I said I’ll probably be back in a week or so to return the Masks” Cole said as he secured his cloak. “Does Sierra ever wish to visit the Summer Court again? I have clout with Queen Tiandra. If you wished to take a few days off, we could meet again when Shade and I are-“

Minceraft held up a hand.

“Sierra has her reasons for leaving the Feywild. I have brought up the idea before and have received cold glares as an answer”

“Still” He said with a glance at the door to his bedroom “As a guest of the queen…I’ll see what she thinks”

Cole nodded, he turned to his traveling companion.

“Ready to head out? We’ll get a quick rest at the Hall of Champions. At first light we warp to the Gloaming court”

“You’ll get a quick rest” Shade corrected him.

“Ah, yes” Cole said as he opened the portal “Still not used to that”

Shade stepped through the portal.

“You take care son” Cole said to Minceraft “Really think about my offer”

Minceraft gave a slight smile “It’s honestly not mine to think about”

The two men locked eyes once more. If Shade were there he would feel the anxious tension.

“Take care, father” Minceraft finally said.

With a nod Cole passed through the portal. Leaving Minceraft alone in the moonlight.

* * *

##### Footnotes

  1. Also known as the Autumn Court.
  2. A founding member of the Order of Champions.




	5. On Gods and Immortals

They arrived in a warm room bathed in candlelight. The Hall of Champions. Located outside of Locke’s Harbor, and a few hours out of the town of Loudwater, the building was once the guild hall of the Order of Champions as they planned their stratagem against the champions of the dark gods. The men who once called the hall home eventually went their separate ways, pursuing their own separate legacies. Other heroes would take their place at the hall, new Orders of Champions, but there hadn't been an Order in a half-century. Not since the Eleventh.

Now only Cole remained at the hall. It was his base of operations. Locked down with complex and dangerous protection spells. He had good reason to. Various artifacts of power were gathered within the stone hall. The Dragonlance, once used to slay the Vizier dragons of Athshin. The longsword Mortality, bane to those of righteous heart, former blade of the vampire lord Strahd Von Zarovich. Lifecutter, the legendary scythe of the former god of the dead Nerull. Technically the scythe belonged to Shade. He had claimed it once it was drained of Nerull’s essence and used it to great effect during the breach of the Grey Gate. Cole regarded the scythe with bitter memories. He had been a prisoner of close to twenty years because he refused to give up its location.

“Will we need this?” Shade said as he viewed the scythe from inside its enchanted case.

Cole was busy checking his wards for any attempted intrusions. The signs read negative. He turned to Shade with an arched eyebrow.

“The scythe?” he scratched his chin. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. We may need to bring out the big guns in case things go awry”

He dispelled the enchantment over the case and removed the scythe. In its inert state it looked like a gothic quarterstaff. Its ebony body pulsed with red veins whenever it was touched. When its wielder wished it, the scarlet blade sprang from the top, not unlike Shade’s psiblade. With some effort, Cole slid the scythe within his pack. The pack was a custom bag of holding designed to resemble a traveler’s bag. Most bags of holding were cloth and tied with string, like a coin purse.

“And things couldn’t’ve gone awry in Mourning?” Shade said in a bemused tone.

“We had Nosib and many legendary warriors backing us in Mourning” Cole said as he removed his sword and cloak.

“The only threats we would’ve faced there would’ve been people like Redblade. Nothing we couldn’t handle with our own abilities"

"In the realm of dreams though-" he turned a corner into another room "-Literally anything is possible if things go awry. I prefer to err on the side of caution as I live dangerously”

He returned with a fresh set of clothes and a blank journal. He savored the smell of untouched parchment before dropping onto his bed built into the back wall. He stared up at the ceiling. He was anticipating the incoming question. Everything about the Scarecrow’s body language gave it away.

“Cole, why are you immortal?” Shade asked.

There it was.

The bard flipped onto his side to look at the scarecrow. Shade was staring intently at him from his cross-legged position. Shade had gotten into a habit of asking Cole this question on a semi-regular basis. Either hoping to get an answer out of him by catching him off guard or through pure persistence.

“I once encountered the god of dying, Tharoth. The Raven Queen governs the realm of death, but Tharoth commands the actual act of dying. It’s weird, I know. His methodology is a series of tarot cards, each one revealing the subject’s death. I tricked him and stole the card that represented my own death. I’ve never looked at it. I keep it in a very secure vault in an empty patch of the Astral Sea. As long as no one ever views the card the fate printed on it can never come to pass, and, by extension, I can never die”

A pause.

“Is that true?” The typical response.

“It might be” The typical follow-up.

Cole turned onto his back again and closed his eyes. That was all Shade was going to get out of him tonight. So far the possible answers to his question include a fountain of youth, a deal with a devil, an ancient ritual, and secretly being made an archfey. When questioned about any of these he always responded as he just did. Shade didn’t know what irked him more. The fact that he might never get a clear answer, or the fact that every time Cole responded with some story it always sounded so plausible. Shade was beginning to theorize that Cole was laying clues to the true answer, and Shade just wasn’t picking up on them. The actual answer didn’t matter as much as the mystery around the wanderer’s long life. Even his allies did not truly know how their friend had survived when all the other mortal champions, like Nosib, had died like any other natural being. The part of him that was Ioun’s champion conspired that there must be some secret that Cole had stumbled upon, some lost lore or magic.

Cole’s breathing had become even now. He was deep asleep. Shade often got lost in thought when the world around him was quiet. A side-effect of being incapable of sleep. Even Warforged had some manner of rest. Shade was uncertain if they dreamed, but it was still more than he was capable of. He closed his eyes and tried to dream.

Nothing.

He sighed and went for the next best thing. He straightened his back and righted his position so that it was more like that of a monk in meditation. The world dissolved around him as he sent his consciousness out. He felt himself flying past the world of Domhanda and entering the Astral Sea. He came to a shining city, and on its east end he found a white tower that peaked over the skyline. The Pillar of Knowledge. Home to his patron lady. Ioun.

This would not be a true meeting. Shade was not actually present in the city of the gods. If anything it was Ioun who was projecting herself to him. She was bathed in an aura of deep blue. Her silvery hair flowed like water onto her midnight robe. In her hand was the staff of knowledge, Scientia Bacalus.

_My lady_. Shade said, his mouth not moving.

_My champion of curiosity._ Her face showed no emotion. _How fair you in your travels?_

_We are headed to the realm of dreams next. Through the portal in the Feywild._

_Aisling’Am_. She tilted her head.

_Yes. I am curious to see what it holds._

_Ohgma_ _ 1 _ _holds some dominion over the realm. That is where the revelations of new ideas are held. The realm of the subconscious is powerful. Vecna_ _2_ _would seek to domineer it, to expunge the secrets that lie within._

_Do all who dream arrive there?_

_Yes. From the great sage to the mindless beast. If it sleeps and dreams then its thoughts are sent adrift in Aisling’Am._

_Why do you hold no dominion over it? The knowledge that could be hidden away-_

_My domain is of open knowledge. It is Vecna that hoards secrets. I respect the mind’s right to suppress knowledge. To force free such information makes us no better than brutes. You are still learning. That is why you are my champion of curiosity. The youngest of my court. You live through experience and self-taught capabilities rather than theory._

_What will we encounter in the realm of dreams?_

_That is a question better asked of yourself and your companion. It will be your minds that shape the plane once you are within it._

_I am certain I can control my mind. I don’t know about Cole._

_He is certain that he can control his thoughts. His mind is a hazardous place. So many things he has discovered and kept secret out of fear of how the world would react to them. I once thought of recruiting him to my cause. He rejected the offer._

_Do_ you _know why he’s immortal?_

The Goddess’s face was like a porcelain mask. _I have my theories. It is one of the many facts that he hides._

She closed her eyes. Shade could feel himself fading.

_It is dawn now. He will wake soon._

Her image dissolved and Shade’s mind was pulled back to the hall. He opened his eyes. Ioun had spoken correctly. The morning sunlight dripped through the cracks in the window curtains. He could hear songbirds.

Cole was staring at the ceiling. His hands under the back of his head. Shade did not know if the bard knew he was watching him. His normally relaxed face was tense in deep thought. To Shade’s ardent senses he looked like a ball of anxiety.

Suddenly Cole shifted to the scarecrow. An eager smile on his face.

“The Gloaming Court calls us”

* * *

##### Footnotes

  1. God of Ideas and Innovations.
  2. Goddess of Forbidden Knowledge.




	6. A Lake and Lovers

The Gloaming Court was the realm of the autumn fey. The sky was a permanent sunset, lighting the court in shades of violet and midnight blue. The trees permanently displayed the colors of fall. Bright oranges, deep reds, and faded yellows decorated the court. Banquet tables overflowed with pumpkins, horns of plenty, and other bounties of harvest. Pixies with clothes made of fallen leaves flitted from tree to tree collecting nuts and seeds. At the center of it all was the Prince of Hearts. Taller than the average elf and undeniably handsome, his copper skin stood out against his clothes of deep purple. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch, and his glossy black hair was tied in a tight ponytail.

“The famous wanderer!” He exclaimed as Cole and Shade approached. “You do me a great honor by gracing my court. To what to I owe the pleasure?”

Cole cleared his throat. “Well, to cut to the chase, your lordship, we request access to the lake of dreams”

“Aisling’Am” The Prince was intrigued “And what would a man such as yourself wish to gain from this realm. Spying on your beloved?”

“I- No nothing of that sort” Cole said bluntly, caught off guard by the Prince’s forwardness.

“Hahahaha!” The Prince chortled “Of course not! And who is your friend? He has no heart to beat, but his soul feels much”

“I am Shade, champion of Ioun” Shade said. To his ardent senses the Prince’s presence was overpowering.

“Ah! That explains it, you are one of the heroes of this new age. A 'Vanguard of the Grey Gate'”

The Prince began to walk away motioning for them to follow. They left the grove and trotted down a gravel path that ran parallel to a stream. Occasionally elves carrying bushels of apples sprinted by. The elves bade their lord a quick reverence before continuing along.

“I was not at the battle. Quixotically, Lord Oran1 forbade me from joining the fight. He wished Tiandra2 and I to remain here in his absence” They stopped at a curved bridge that crossed the creek. Downstream a group of gnomes were setting up fishing poles.

“I do not blame him” The Prince sighed “With the Prince of Frost’s true identity revealed3 losing all of us was too great a risk if we were to ever recover. Still…all those valiant hearts that met their end that horrible day. It makes me wonder how different it would’ve been if I had been there.”

He smiled. “Enough thoughts about what could’ve been. A body is no use if it’s stuck in the past. The lake of dreams, eh?”

“Yes” Shade said, glad to finally be able to get a word in.

“It’s for a book. I wish to document it” Cole said. He pulled out his journal and showed it to the Prince.

“Always documenting, dear wanderer” The prince said with a wistful expression. “When will you settle? Does your heart not yearn for rest? To find itself in the arms of Iggwiliv?”

Cole’s body tensed at the name of his child’s mother. “My heart will tell me to rest when I have done all that I can”

“You were such a promising pair” The Prince said, his voice tinged with regret “The immortal scholars. Your dawn to compliment her dusk. Alas”

Shade felt he should say something on Cole’s behalf, but part of him was more curious about where this was going. Cole’s emotions read as if he was resisting the urge to walk out on the Prince right then and there.

“I’m glad your son found happiness with another” The Prince finally said “You should bring them to visit. I would be fascinated in the story of their courtship”

“He’ll be here when I’m finished with the plane of dreams” Cole quickly said, urgently steering the conversation back on track.

“Will he?” The Prince’s eyes lit up.

They began to walk again.

“Yes. We agreed on the Summer court. That’s where his…beloved is from.” To Cole’s credit, as uncomfortable as he was speaking to the Prince he hid it well “That’s not to say that I couldn’t convince them to visit you. In exchange for access to Aisling’Am”

“You are a shrewd negotiator!” The Prince laughed. “Very well! Very well! I shall send word to Razcoreth to expect you”

He waved his hand. Instantly it was filled with white petals. He whispered to them in elven. When he was done he exhaled a great stream of wind that carried the petals away. The trail of petals weaved through the trees as if sentient as they continued down a direct path.

“You best follow them” The Prince said as he began to walk away “Razcoreth does not like to be kept waiting. I’ll hold you to your word, wanderer.”

His hearty laughter echoed through the forest of autumn trees. Shade glanced at Cole who sighed with a smile at the thought of brining his son to the Gloaming Court.

“What a spectacle that will be” He looked up at the twilit sky.

“Do you regret not going straight to the lake?” Shade smiled.

They began their trek to the lake. They did not speak for the first few minutes. The forest was too much of a spectacle to behold. Though there wasn't, it felt like music could be heard from the trees. Cole extended his palm to catch a falling leaf.

“The Prince, despite all appearances, is one of the better Archfey.” Cole said “He genuinely cares about the mortals who seek his aide. He hides nothing”

“How did he lose his eye?” Shade asked, hoping to break the awkward silence.

“It was to prove his devotion to his own beloved” Cole said.

When he caught Shade’s skeptical face he continued “Nothing quite as gruesome as you’re picturing. The Prince was in love with Fife, the lady of autumn. As you might guess, she was the original ruler of the Gloaming Court. Her lands were threatened by an invading force by the Pale Prince of Frost. For his lady’s honor the Prince of Hearts challenged the Pale Lord to a duel. If the Prince won the Winter Court would back down from starting a war. If the other Prince won then he gave his word that he would swear fealty to the Winter Court. The Prince of Frost shockingly accepted these terms. The two dueled at the border of winter and autumn. Needless to say, the Prince of Hearts won, but lost his eye in the duel. He and Fife were married that same day.”

“Where is Fife now?”

“Dead. She died at the hands of the demon lord Orcus during his attempted invasion of the Feywild. You’d expect the prince to be eternally heartbroken, but somehow he recovered from such a blow. I respect him for that.”

Cole stopped. He held a hand out to signal Shade to do the same.

“We’re here”

* * *

##### Footnotes

  1. Lord of the Spring Court and most powerful of the Archfey.
  2. Queen of the Summer Court.
  3. Lord of the Winter Court. Revealed as an Obyrinth and killed by Oran.




	7. Rage and Confusion

The Lake of Dreams. It glittered in shades of soft pink and deep purple. The surface was stilled to opaque glass. The trees surrounding the lake weren’t the autumn ones of the Prince’s court. They were imposing pine trees of midnight green. Shade had to blink a few time when he realized just how dark it had gotten. Had he even noticed? The light here seemed tinted blue.

"It's smaller than I thought it'd be" Shade said.

"It's about what I thought" Cole shrugged "I suppose 'Pond of Dreams' lacks the same ring"

Behind the lake was the dragon. Razcoreth slept just at the edge of the lake. Though his breathing was heavy, it caused no ripples on the water’s surface. His emerald scales shimmered in the faint light lake produced. He had a pair of horns that extended straight out from the back of his head.

“Something is wrong” Cole said. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the dragon.

“What?” Shade was caught off-guard by the bard’s sudden serious tone.

“What do your psionic abilities tell you about him?”

Shade focused. He zeroed in on the dragon’s essence.

“He’s fast asleep. He’s dreaming”

To Cole this was bad news. “Razcoreth doesn’t sleep. I mean…he does, but not deeply. Think more in line with a quick nap. To sleep any longer would make him a poor guardian.”

“So what do we do?” Shade was uncertain, his hand hovered just above his psiblade’s trigger.

Cole contemplated the situation. The silence in the air broken only by the dragons snoring.

“We go into the lake” he finally said.

He took off his pack and pulled out the Masks of Lucidity. He handed one to Shade. The mask felt warm. Cole instructed that the mask was essentially a blindfold and only to put it on as they were about to enter the lake.

They approached the Lake of Dreams. Slowly. Stealthily. The tall, purple grass shifted to their presence. The glowing lake looked more enticing with each step. The even breathing of Razcoreth acting as a metronome, their steps working in time with it. Shade heard a shift from Cole. He glanced over to see Cole removing a polished bolt-action rifle from his pack. Cole caught Shade’s glance and gave him a wink. _Just in case_.

Then came the sound of something bigger shifting. Both looked on as the dragon raised his head and slowly opened his yellow eyes. The dragon’s serpentine neck swayed from grogginess as he surveyed the two fuzzy shapes before him. When he realized what they were he instantly regained his composure. His eyes narrowed.

Cole straightened his stance "Greetings o' Razcoreth, guardian of the Lake of Dreams. Lord of the Emerald Green"

The dragon did not reply. It was limbering its body from the stiffness of sleep.

“We are guests of the Prince of Hearts" Cole shot a glance at Shade "A message was just sent allowing us access to the lake”

“There has been no message” The Dragon responded. His voice was a rasping whisper. Like trees in a harsh wind.

“But there _has_ been a rash of unhallowed access to the lake. Intruders sneaking past me…”

“…And you think we’re them?” Shade finished the dragon’s thought. He could read the situation as plain as a wanted poster.

“Indeed” The dragon’s body began to shift. He heaved his massive body from its prone position.

Normally Shade would just talk out such cases of mistaken identity, but his senses told him that the dragon was irrational. Something about his sleep had disturbed him and he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Razcoreth!” Cole shouted, hoping to salvage the situation “If you allow us to return to the court-"

"It won’t work Cole” Shade said “He’s not in the right mind. He won’t listen to reason”

Cole gave a short exhalation “Sod it then”

He quickly fired a pair of shots at the dragon. They pierced both of his front shoulder. The wounds crackled with electricity. Razcoreth hissed at the stinging.

“For too long you thieves have snuck past my guard!” Razcoreth bellowed “For too long you have made me a mockery of what I once was! I will have justice!”

He inhaled deeply. Instead of fire he exhaled a great gust of wind that buffeted the duo. The wind was laced with emerald sand. It cut and scratched at their skin like a barrage of microscopic daggers. So powerful was the wind that Shade had to dig his psiblade into the ground to maintain stability. Cole shielded his eyes from the eroding sand.

The winds were unending. Shade had to do something. He exerted a pulse of psionic energy. He overflowed the area around him with uncanny awareness. From Cole’s perspective his body relaxed. His pupils dilated. The world around him slowed down. He could see the individual grains of sand in the air. He found the path of least resistance amid the stream and charged out of it. He strafed around the dragon’s flank, unloading his rifle into him. He could see every damaged scale. Every weak link.

Razcoreth turned his attention to the half-elf and fired concentrated blasts of air as retribution for the attack. Shade was free of the wind and charged the emerald beast. He had a plan to calm the dragon down. He just needed one good strike. As he rounded the lake he filled his blade with calming emotions. Torpor. Drowsiness. Exhaustion. Unfortunately the dragon saw the scarecrow bearing down on him. With a single flap of his wings he “jumped” to the opposite side of the lake, the one Shade had just left, and Cole was still on.

The effects of Shade’s psionics on Cole had worn off. The Bard didn’t react quick enough to the dragon’s arrival and was pinned under one of his massive claws. The dragon inhaled once more. As did Cole. As Razcoreth unleashed his stream of dust Cole let loose a primal scream. It shook the very trees and repelled the dragon’s blast like a shield of sound. The sound wave disorientated Razcoreth long enough for Cole to lift himself out of claws pinning him.

“Cole! Keep him still!” Shade shouted as he rounded the lake once more.

Cole nodded and took a deep breath. He called upon the shadows of the twilight forest. With a forceful gesture of both his hands he commanded the shadows to bind the dragon in place. Razcoreth regained his senses just as tendrils of darkness to wrapped around his legs and neck. The dragon was tied down with shadows.

Cole grunted as the dragon fought him with the brunt of his strength. Shade would be there soon, just a few more seconds. The dragon’s claws dug into the ground, he writhed against the binding tendrils. Beads of sweat formed on Cole’s brow as the strain became too great.

Shade arrived just in time. Cole broke the binds with a relieved gasp. With the last of his strength, he used his own psionic abilities to give Shade a boost. The scarecrow leaped boundlessly into the air. Shade drove himself towards the back of Razcoreth’s head. He dug his blade right between the dragon’s pointed horns and held on for dear life as the dragon whipped his head.

 _Be calm_ Shade emphasized

_Be still. Be sleepy. Be calm!_

Razcoreth’s movements slowed. His body felt too heavy for his limbs to support it. He slowly collapsed to the ground as the will to fight left him. He let loose one final, dismal blast of wind before falling asleep once again.

Cole breathed heavily. He would need a moment to recover from holding the emerald dragon.

“You all right?’ Shade asked as he slid down the dragon’s side.

“I will be” Cole said as he popped the cork off a red potion which he eagerly downed.

The lacerations covering his body scabbed over in an instant. He was still exhausted, but he gave Shade a thumbs up that he was getting better.

They both stared at the still waters of the lake of dreams.

“Better head in before he wakes” Cole muttered. Shade nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need an area to enter from on the other side. A ‘Welcome Room’ if you will” Cole explained.

“Picture the Hall of Champions. As detailed as you can make it. Hold that image in your mind as we step in”

Razcoreth shifted. Both Cole and Shade dropped their conversation to face the dragon, but he was only shifting to a more comfortable position.

“Further..." Cole grunted "The lake actually has no bottom. So stepping into it will be like walking into an open pit. Don’t panic, you’ll be safe. Just picture the Hall in your mind”

Shade gave another nod. They approached the lake’s edge. Cole demonstrated how to wear the Mask of Lucidity. Shade followed his example. He wrapped the mask around his head so that it covered his eyes. The mask felt warm. His body relaxed as the heat soaked into his skin.

“Shall we?” Cole asked.

Shade nodded, but then realized that the Bard wouldn’t see that. He gave a quick “yes” as his answer.

He pictured the Hall of Champions. The warmth that the stone building offered. The comfort being around the collected tomes and artifacts. The watchtower. The library. The armory. All of it he burned into his mind’s eye. Every crack in the stone and knot in the wooden shelves.

Simultaneously they took a step into the lake. It offered no resistance to their presence. There was nothing beneath the glassy surface. As they continued forward their bodies passed effortlessly through the lake until it had swallowed them whole.


	8. Theory and Facts

Shade opened his eyes. Morning light dripped through the cracks in the drapes. He could hear songbirds. He squinted. He was in the Hall of Champions. Where else would he be? He and Cole had just gotten back from dinner with Minceraft.

No, that wasn’t right. They had left the Hall hours ago. He was sure of it. Cole was lying on his bed of cushions. His eyes shut. It must be the morning after they returned from Mourning. Cole was resting after the day’s events.

Right? Shade wasn’t sure any more. It was a weird sensation. This feeling that he could barely recall what happened moments before he had opened his eyes, mixed with the certainty that whatever part he was forgetting was important. Did that make sense? He shook his head. It was a feeling unfamiliar to him.

“We’re here” Cole said suddenly. Shade was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost jumped at the bard’s voice.

“The realm of dreams”

It all came rushing back to Shade. Their journey to the Feywild. Their meeting with the Prince. Their fight with Razcoreth. He was in Aisling’Am. How could he forget that?

“You alright?” Cole asked, a benign smile on his face.

“It’s strange” Shade said “I couldn’t remember what I was doing before we got here. Then you spoke and the details all flashed in at once”

“Welcome to the feeling of waking from a good dream” The bard was standing now, taking in his surroundings.

“I don’t like it” Shade said, standing up himself.

Cole gave a small laugh in spite of himself. His journal was already out as he surveyed the room. He picked up one of the books off the shelf.

“Figures” He said with a smirk as he flipped through it “Gibberish. The mind isn’t as good at remembering words on the page as it is with physical objects”

He tossed the book to Shade who confirmed its illegibility.

“So this realm is made of our memories?” Shade asked.

“Sort of. You can only really picture something that you’ve seen before, yeah? The mind can’t create a new face, only alterations to a face its already seen”

“I wouldn’t know” Shade said honestly.

“Right…” Cole said. He was sniffing the air now. “Dreams are fantasies made of memories. That’s the best way to describe it”

“I follow you so far” Shade said “So what’s out that door?”

Cole looked at the great door that served as the exit to the hall. He got a wild grin on his face as he turned to the scarecrow.

“Let’s find out”

He opened the door to find an exact mirror of the room they were currently in. Cole walked into the “new” room like such a thing was normal. Shade was hesitant, as he was only used to such sights as the result of illusionary magic. 

“Feel any strange compulsions?” Cole asked between notes in his journal.

“Like what?”

“Sometimes the ‘plot’ of a dream can change suddenly as the subconscious shifts. One moment you’re about to reconnect with a lost love, the next you’re building a canoe”

“I’m not feeling any desire to build a canoe” Shade affirmed “I feel like I normally do”

“Me too. I suppose we really are here physically, completely in control of ourselves. What one might call a ‘lucid’ dream”

Cole pocketed his journal. He went to scratch out some loose particle in his eyelashes only to pause upon touching his face.

“Do I still have the mask on?”

Shade shook his head.

“I can still feel it. Like its a part of my face” 

Cole pawed at his brow like there was a curled hair in his vision that he could not grab. Shade touched his own face to confirm the same was true for him.

“Suppose that’s part of their magic?” Shade asked.

“I’d bet my winter hat on it. Do me a favor and close the door behind you”

“Which is your winter hat?” Shade asked as he followed through on the request.

“The green wool cap with the fake topaz in the center”

“Is it magic?”

“No, but it's warm, and when you have elf ears that’s a virtue you can’t pass up in hats”

Cole was silent for a moment. His green eyes were looking at every corner of the room. Shade did the same, but he had no idea what they were looking for. He just allowed Cole his unrequested silence.

“There” Cole finally said.

He drew his pistol and fired at one of the windows. The sudden burst of sound caused Shade to cringe.

“Why did you do that?” 

“It’s not the real hall” Cole said playfully “Besides, that window had our way forward”

Using the butt of his pistol, Cole cleared the shards of glass. On the other side was not Locke’s Harbor, but a snow-capped mountain village. Before Shade could process what he was seeing Cole had already climbed through. Shade would just have to get used to this if he wanted to keep pace in this expedition.

“Recognize this place?” Cole returned his pistol to its holster in the inside of his cloak.

“This is Mourning. One of the ice camps we visited”

For those who favored the difficulty of mountain combat, Mourning delivered with a series of peaks, dubbed “The Fangs”. Cole, Shade, and Nosib had spent a week summiting one of the mountains, with Cole stopping at each camp to interview the warriors that lived there. 

As Shade looked around the camp he saw more details emerge from his memory. There was the buck-toothed goliath blacksmith who had sheltered them on their third night. There was also the sleek warforged that challenged Shade to a duel to prove who was the superior construct. Shade won, but he also admitted to his exarch status in the hopes it would soothe the warforged’s bruised ego. The warforged was now walking up to him and Cole.

“I thought about what you said…” the warforged spoke with an Everon accent “I think I was still right, cause you can’t eat, but I suppose I could’ve let you try”

“I beg your pardon?” Shade squinted at the warforged.

“Might be projecting” Cole was already pen deep in his journal “Your mind putting the words of someone else in his mouth. Know who it might be?”

“Orron” the answer came to Shade plainly “After our first week of work, the team went for dumplings. Orron ate mine on the grounds that I couldn’t even taste them. We argued for weeks after. But why is _he_ saying that?”

“Minds are weird” Cole shrugged “Perhaps something about this warforged reminded you of him”

“His voice” Shade said. 

Again, the answer came to him without hesitation. He understood perfectly why this was happening, without even having to think on it. The warforged’s accent was a perfect replication of Orron’s. Or maybe he only thought that because the dream version was literally using Orron’s voice. He couldn’t remember and it was distracting to dwell on it.

“You” the warforged now turned to Cole “I never dueled _you_ ”

“No you didn’t, and you probably won’t” Cole’s tone was dry.

The warforged said nothing. It trudged through the snow over to the blacksmith.

“Any projecting that time?” Shade asked.

“I don’t think so. I _was_ a little jealous that he was so focused on you for a duel”

“You? Jealous?”

“A little. I’m used to being the most interesting person in the room, whether I choose to be, or not”

The pair walked through the camp. Every detail was as Shade remembered it, right down to the odd texture of the snow mixed with the red dust of Mourning. The soldiers in camp all seemed to pay special attention to Shade and Cole.

“So this is what dreams are like?” Shade asked.

“Sometimes. Dreams can switch rapidly. We were in the Hall only moments ago, if you recall. Sometimes dreams can be full flights of fancy”

He demonstrated by jumping. Shade was surprised when he did not descended, but instead hung in the air as if stuck there. The bard admired his new position and jotted down notes in his journal. Shade’s mind was uncomfortable at seeing such a perversion of gravity. Immediately the snow around him began to move. As if it were alive, the snow gathered under Cole’s feet until it formed a hill that he was standing on. Cole took it in his stride.

“Thank you” He said as he sat down on the mound of snow.

“I thought it would make more sense that way” Shade said.

“Making sense of things is something you’re going to want to abandon in this realm” Cole had stowed his journal.

“We’re still technically in our dream” He was looking at the sky “We’re omnipotent here because this portion of the realm is deprived of our consciousness shared by the Masks of Lucidity. But Aisling’Am is a realm of everyone’s dreams. If we leave this place we’ll be adrift in the minds and memories of others”

“Is it possible to navigate it? Find a specific person?” Shade asked.

“It’s possible, but tricky. You have to know quite a bit about the person to pick their mind out of a cosmos of millions. It’s like guessing the combination to a safe. Dreams and ideas swirl around like a vortex here. The newest dreams being relegated to the outside spiral, while the most ancient dreams lie at the core”

“The dreams of gods?” Shade asked, the prospect made him tingle with excitement at the possibilities.

“It’s possible. I don’t actually know if divine beings sleep or not, but if they do their collected minds will be found here”

“Can we be harmed here?” Shade asked.

Cole demonstrated by forming a snowball and chucking at the scarecrow. It hit like a rock.

“That hurt?”

“Yes. It felt very real to me”

“This time remember that the snowball is a dream. It’s not real, only in your mind”

He chucked another snowball. Shade focused. The snowball passed right through him and crumbled harmlessly on the ground behind him.

“So if we disbelieve what we’re seeing it can’t touch us?”

“As long as it’s a construct of the mind. There are beings that prowl the realm of dreams that are as real as you or I. Githyanki explore the dreams of others for information and secrets. As do cultists of Vecna, but they’re more focused on the forbidden and tucked away lore. But those are all strangers to this realm like us. The only beings that have origins to this realm are…”

“…Kalashtar” Shade finished his sentence, what little he knew of Aisling’Am included the elvish race with eyes of silver and skin of bronze.

“Yes. They are a curious race. I had a friend who was one” Cole continued “Kalashtar manifest physically within their dreams like we are now, but they never leave the mortal plane. Whatever history they have written down is vague, with many missing pieces, and all of it written after they appeared in the Feywild and Domhanda”

“And you want to fill the missing pieces in their history” Shade said with a tilted head.

“It’s on my list” Cole smirked.

Cole finally stood “But enough on the theory of traversing the plane of dreams. Let’s get a little experience in the practice”

“I’m ready” Shade said eagerly “But, how do we exit our own dream?”

“It’s tricky” Cole said as he slid down the hill of snow “In theory we treat the plane like any other place. We keep moving in one direction and we’ll reach somewhere else”

“I…I didn’t think it would be that simple.” Shade was a little let down.

“The thing is we have no way of knowing when we’ll cross over. It could be once we go inside one of these buildings, could be once we summit those mountains. Part of my research here is to find the key points that bridge dreams. It’ll be a bit like my cosmic map.”

“Will we head for the center of the realm?” Shade asked.

Cole’s grin reemerged “Wouldn’t be a comprehensive study if we didn’t”

Shade’s grin matched the bards. Together they set out down the trail away from the village and deeper into the realm of dreams.


	9. Unseelie and Unwise

It had been 10 days in Aisling'Am. In the mortal plane that equated to half a day. Time moves slowest in the realm of dreams. Shade and Cole had long since passed from their own dream to that of a dwarven baker fantasizing about cooking for the king. Beyond that there was Githzerai strangely dreaming about digging a big hole in the desert, a troglodyte’s dream about becoming a dragon, and a brief encounter with an orc having a nightmare about being hunted by a horde of spiders. Shade had partially adapted to how the realm worked and was slowly mastering its fantastical brand of physics. He had taken pity on the orc so he had erected a wall of fire to protect him from the swarm. Cole was impressed by Shade's strong control of the dream world even in the minds of others.

“How close are we to the center now?” Shade asked.

They were sitting on a raft flowing down a red river. Some goblin named Chuk was fantasizing about singlehandedly killing a village of elves, the river was dyed with their blood. The pair of travelers had left the goblin to his imaginary slaughter. Cole was stopping to eat from the provisions he had packed.

“Quarter of the way I’d reckon. We still have a lot of space to cover. And it will get trickier to traverse the deeper we get due to the density of older dreams”

The world around them was starting to get blurry. A sign that they were crossing into a new dream. Their surroundings shifted from a Fae'Riam forest to a sterile marble building. They seamlessly transitioned from sitting on the raft to walking down the hall. Shade and Cole both suspiciously scanned their new surroundings.

“This is the Grey Haven” Shade said.

It was true. This dream was modeled after the headquarters of the Star Reapers1, the morally grey organization that assisted in the defeat of the Obyrinths and held Cole prisoner for 10 years. They could hear the sound of two people conversing farther down the hall.

“The dreamer is down there” Shade said. He had learned to attune his psionic abilities to figure out which person, or creature, was the source of the dream.

“Let’s investigate. I’m curious as to what a Star Reaper dreams about, especially now that their order’s goal is essentially complete” Cole said in an inquisitive tone.

They ventured down the hall network of hallways until they came to one with a thin green rug running down the center of the marble floor. It was not a location Shade recognized from his time in Grey Haven. They walked down this hall for what felt like hours and found they had made little to no progress. Some trick of the dream was at play.

“An infinite hallway” Shade said “I could probably get us through it if you’re that curious”

“The only other way will take us back to that goblin. So short of breaking a wall down it’s our best bet for proceeding”

Shade nodded and turned his attention to the wall at the end of the hall, where the path made a left turn. He pictured the hall shortening, closing the gap between the end and himself. In his focus he picked up something odd on his ardent senses.

“There’s a real person down there”

“What? Who are they?” Cole was baffled by this development.

“No clue” Shade said, his attention fully shifted onto the presence around the corner “They’re frustrated. Something is stopping them from reaching their goal. Whatever they're doing, hey thought it would be easier”

Cole squinted down the hall “Let’s say hello then. Perhaps we can ease their frustration”

“Think they’re githyanki or Vecna disciples?”

“No, those lot always travel in groups. So unless they’re some elite lone agent, or was separated from their group then we’re dealing with something entirely different”

Shade nodded. He focused again on the hall. The far wall slowly began to move towards him, and with it the whole hall decreased in length. In seconds they were at the turn.

Around the corner the hall came to a dead end. A large safe made out of some golden metal jutted out of the wall. In front of this safe was a female gnome. Her stark white hair was styled to look like her head was on fire and contrasted against her dark skin. On her forehead a white gem gave off a faint glow. She wore some manner of light leather armor dotted randomly with precious stones, most commonly jade. On her hip hung a thin dagger that was inexplicably attached to a hilt that looked like it was better suited to the cutlass of a noble prince. She was glaring down at a stout man dressed in Star Reaper robes. Shade could tell that the man was the dreamer. He was having some manner of nightmare where he had shrunk to the stature of a child. He shook his fist at the gnome.

“I can reach the dial on my own. I don’t need your help!” He exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and annoyed.

“Can you?” The woman sassed him “Without my help you wouldn’t even reach the lever to open it you daft idiot. You either stand here and fuss like a baby, or let me help you up”

“This is not how things are supposed to go! I’m supposed to be alone when I enter the vault to do inventory!” The man/child’s face was red from screaming.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be!” The gnome’s hand was instinctively twitching towards her blade “Think about this, you can’t get into the safe, so you can’t do your job, so you get fired, so you’ll get sad, so you’ll kill yourself. Simple as that!”

The man spasmed like a child throwing a tantrum. In his fussing he took noticed at the two new arrivals, who had been watching this conversation quite quietly and casually.

“And who is this?” He shouted to the gnome with an accusatory finger at Cole and Shade.

A comically confused look spread across the gnome’s face “Hell if I know! You two, who the hell are you?”

“Slightly amused” remarked Cole.

“Mildly disappointed” said Shade.

“This is all wrong!” shouted the man, throwing-up his arms.

The man-child stormed off away from the vault and back down the hall. The gnome swore loudly and slammed her fist into the wall.

“Bastards. All of you! I was about to seal the damn deal and you two bastards ruined it!”

“And what was the deal?” Cole asked, his eyebrows raised.

“To get into the method for opening the vault! Why else would I put up that bastard?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small flask which she took a quick swig from.

“Excuse me if you find this to be too forward” Cole said “but who are you and why are you in Aisling’Am invading the dreams of a Star Reaper?”

The girl squinted at Cole like he had just told a bad joke “Why should I tell you anything?”

“You don’t have to” Cole said modestly “I’m curious is all. You must be quite daring to plan an infiltration of the Grey Haven”

“It’ll be easy compared to the last heist I pulled” The woman said with a grin slowly growing on her face “The stockpile of this underground lich. Camped out in his brain for three days waiting for him to drop the password to his barrier”

“So you’re a thief then” Shade said bluntly.

“One of the best. One of these days I’ll be the right-hand girl of the Archfey of thieves himself”

Shade and Cole exchanged significant looks. Both of them were having the same train of thought.

“Come to think of it” The girl had taken another drink from her flask, her finger pointing straight at Shade “You’re some kinda living scarecrow right? My master talks about one he knew from time to time”

“And who is you’re master?” Shade asked, already knowing the answer.

“Babbling Fur2!” The gnome shouted “Thief-master of all the Feywild, threat to coin purses and treasure hordes everywhere!”

Shade gave Cole a glowering look to Cole who was in the middle of suppressing a snort of laughter.

“At the risk of this making it back to him, yes, I am that same Scarecrow” Shade finally said.

“What, really?” The gnome was taken aback.

“Yes we started adventuring together. He and I were-“

“You’re the bastard that never shuts-up then! The one who’d rather talk then fight!” The gnome interrupted him “You always needed saving when all your talking got you in over your head”

“I-“ Shade wasn’t prepared to counter such claims.

“So you’re a thief who uses dreams to gain information on your mark” Cole scratched his chin “Pretty novel way of doing things”

“That’s why I’m gonna be Babbling’s right-hand!” The girl beamed “Came up with the system myself. I slip some experimental drugs to that emerald dragon and jump in the lake”

“You’re the reason Razcoreth attacked us!” Shade exclaimed.

“Probably, the drugs leave you with a nasty headache, they had to be potent to knock out a dragon. Kinda surprised that dumb bastard hasn’t caught on yet. I have been doing this for a month now”

As Shade was about to follow up on this the gnome interrupted him again “I never introduced myself did I? M’name’s Unwise”

“Cole the Wanderer, this is Shade’ Cole said with a small bow “You’ve been at this a while, I take it this plane is child’s play to you?”

“I’ve always had vivid dreams. Sometimes I see things that really happened” Unwise said without a hint of modesty “This place is simple for me to figure out. The only problem is getting pissants like that guy to cooperate into giving me his damn vault code!”

“Curious. Was either of your parents a Kalashtar?” Cole asked.

Unwise cocked her head sideways “Yeah, my mum was. She taught me everything about this place”

“You ever try to reach the center?” Cole asked.

“Nah, thought about it a few times. Got close once. But I usually find something more interesting”

“What if I paid you to be our guide?”

Shade whipped his head to Cole “What? You really think she can help?”

“She has more experience in this realm then either of us. She’ll probably also have useful intel for the book”

“Oh! You’re some sort of scholar bastard then?” Unwise said, annoyed that she was being excluded from the conversation “Studying the realm?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Cole responded

“Hmph, pegged you two as more of adventuring types. Rescuing the princess to get some lovin’. Yeah, I can help you get to the center”

“You will?” Shade was shocked that any disciple of Babbling would help anyone.

“It won’t be cheap though, doubt you have the coin to pay it” Unwise said with a grin.

“You’d be surprised” Cole said with a disarming smile to counter it.

Unwise barely flinched “All I ask is for you bastards to cover what I lost on this score”

Cole’s eyes flitted to the safe then back to the gnome “Easy enough”

“Mr. Moneybags then!” Unwise whistled “I should invade you’re dreams next. If that’s verbal contract I don’t see any reason to be sticking in this bastard’s dream, c’mon”

With that she abruptly walked clear through one of the walls like it wasn’t even there. Both Cole and Shade were taken aback.

Unwise stuck her head out of the wall “What are you waiting for?”

“How did you do that?” Cole asked.

“You bastards seriously didn’t know about the shortcuts in this place? You really haven’t been the realm long!”

She cackled like a madwoman as she recede her head back through the wall.

“You still sure this is a good idea?” Shade asked.

“She’s already proven her usefulness” Cole said as he stepped towards the wall “But to answer your question: Not entirely”

He went through the wall, and, with a sigh, Shade followed.

* * *

  1. See Appendix C
  2. Babbling Fur was a member of the Vanguards of the Grey Gate. He was a pixie known for his kleptomania, coarse attitude, and phenomenal sneaking abilities.




	10. A Festival and A Fight

It was the festival of lights. Ranach and his sweetheart, Me’anne, were sitting on the hill overlooking their small town of Litle. The firework show was about to begin. Ranach could hardly believe this was happening to him. Me'anne was his childhood sweetheart who moved away when they were just 250 years old, but yesterday she had returned for this one night. For the festival. Ranach was certain that if he could just admit to her his feelings that she would stay with him in Litle.

He looked deeply into her eyes as the fireworks began. Somehow she was more breathtaking than he could have possible imagined.

“Me’anne…” He began, she was so beautiful that the words got caught in his throat “I have something I want to tell you…”

Out of the corner of his eye Ranach could see rustling in the bushes behind his beloved. Before he could focus clearly on it a female gnome burst out of it followed by several tall, yellow skinned humanoids with scimitars.

“You githyanki bastards can’t run for shit!” The gnome exclaimed as she zipped down the hill with the gith hot on her heels.

“Ranach what’s happening?” Me’anne was distressed.

“I don’t kn-“ Ranach began before he was cut off again.

A half-elf had suddenly appeared from the bushes as well, a long rifle in his hand.

“Pardon me” He said as he shoved aside the pair of elves and took up a firing position.

With a few quick shots he had downed all the githyanki on the hill. Without a word he tipped his hat to Ranach and followed the gnome.

“Ranach I’m scared!” Me’anne whimpered.

Ranach was deeply terrified as well as to what this all meant but put on a brave face for her.

“We should get out of-“

A scarecrow burst from the forest now, the glowing blade on his wrist illuminating the dark hill. His back was to the duo, braced for whatever else was going to come from the bushes next. His head snapped to the elven pair.

“Get out of here!” His speech was calm but his tone was dire.

Ranach meekly nodded and seized his crush’s hand. Without a word they ran away from the forest and back down to the village. Ranach kept shooting glances back on the hill as they ran. The scarecrow watched the pair for the briefest of moments before focusing back on where he had come from. The first githyanki attacked from the shadows of the forest, its stainless sword glinting in the light of the scarecrow’s psiblade. The scarecrow sidestepped the attack, turning a full circle as he fueled his blade with psionic energy. He clotheslined the blade into the gith’s throat, detonating the pent up energy and blasting the creature back as if it had been punched by a grandmaster monk.

Me’anne shrieked, her finger pointed at the sky. Ranach followed her gaze and saw some manner of airship cresting the hill. It looked like a dragon made of warped metal, the eyes that served as the bow flashed red with malicious intent. His elven eyes could see humanoid shapes rappelling off the side of the ship to the ground below.

An explosion went off adjacent to the ship. One of the festival fireworks. Only instead of sparks it burst into a dozen streams of arcing electricity targeting several of the figures on the ship. Ranach turned to see the half-elf from before had set-up the firework rockets to point at the airship. He pressed his hand against each rocket, leaving behind a glowing blue symbol that Ranach could not even begin to guess the nature of. More rockets fired into the sky, each one having the same effect as before. The figures on the ship dropped like flies on the countryside of Ranach’s precious village.

“Me’anne!” His voice was urgent as he turned to her “If we die here today, I want you to know-“

“Eyes up, you bastard!” It was the gnome from earlier.

Ranach became aware that there were several yellow-skinned creatures charging him. A pair of long fingered hands pressed down on his head. It was like a child was leap-frogging over him. The gnome sprang off of his head into one of the oncoming githyanki, knocking it onto its back. In the gnome’s hand was some bizarre dagger which she proceeded to use to slit the gith’s throat. The other gith turned their attention to her, completely baffled to her plan of attack. Each took a swing, but every strike missed as the gnome flipped and twirled away. When she was a decent distance she held her weapon out before her. With a flick of her wrist the blade somehow extended to the length of a proper longsword.

“En garde, you bastards!” She shouted as she bum rushed her attackers.

The gnome danced around her opponents. Cutting lacerations that bled and stung the gith. She specifically targeted their sword hands so as to disarm them. She was just the distraction though. The scarecrow slammed into one of the gith with a leaping strike. The githyanki looked overwhelmed as they fought this new challenger. The gnome swore at them the whole time.

“Watch for the elite!” The scarecrow shouted to the gnome.

His finger was pointed at a taller, much more muscular gith that had a pair of blackened horns growing wildly from its head. It hefted a glinting silver longsword.

“That blade is crafted for expelling extra-planer beings” The scarecrow explained between fighting.

“Speak common, you bastard!” The gnome shouted back to him.

“If he hits you with it you’ll be thrown out of this realm”

The gnome paused. Her eyes flitted to the approaching elite.

“I want it” She said bluntly.

The elite joined the melee. Its attacks oozed confidence as it swung recklessly at the duo. The scarecrow and gnome were completely on the defensive, having no time to attack between dodging and blocking the silver blade.

“Ranach please!” Me’anne pulled on his arm “Let’s get to safety!”

Ranach still didn’t fully comprehend what was happening here. He followed her nonetheless. His house lay on the outer edge of the village, near the windmill. If those three adventurers could contain the gith to just this side, they would be safe.

More explosions and shouting. Ranach didn’t look back for fear that he’d stall again and endanger Me’anne. They finally reached his little home. It looked completely untouched by the chaos. They went inside and barred the door with his dining table. He led Me’anne upstairs to his bedroom. She was exhausted from the madness of what was going on and needed to lie down. Ranach wanted a better view of the action from a higher vantage point.

After laying her down. He subtly went to his one window across the room. The distance meant he couldn’t make out as many details, but his elven eyes compensated for it. Explosions were ripping apart the airship above while the scarecrow and gnome were still fighting the big githyanki. He saw the gnome dodge a big strike from the gith. She rolled around him and struck his ankles causing him to stumble giving the scarecrow the opportunity to stab him in the chest. The elite recoiled as the gnome dove between his legs and stabbed his sword arm, driving he rapier clean through it. The tactic worked. The elite dropped his blade, which the gnome eagerly snatched up and waved in front of him. Suddenly the half-elf bounded to them. He seized his fellows and ripped them backwards with a powerful jump. Ranach saw why. The airship was losing altitude quite rapidly. In the time of a blink it crashed where the elite still stood, exploding shrapnel and fire. Chunks of metal tore apart houses. The village’s roads were obliterated. Ranach closed his eyes sadly.

“The battle is over” He said as he turned to Me’anne “But…Litle…I don’t know if it will ever recover”

“That’s alright” She said with a warm hand to his face “At least you and I are unscathed”

She was so beautiful.

“Me’anne I-“ Ranach began.

Me’anne seized his shoulders. For a brief moment he thought she was going to embrace him, but he soon realized that talons were digging into his skin. Me’anne face shifted to a withered crone, the same withered crone from his childhood that had threatened him when he played in her garden, and beat him with a broom when he didn’t listen. Her eyes went black as her mouth filled with fangs. She bore down on him with a rasping cackle.

Ranach couldn’t pull away. He screamed in pure terror.

He awoke in his bed. A cold sweat clinging to his face. It was all a dream. Me’anne hadn’t returned, the old crone had died centuries ago, and the festival of lights wasn’t for months. He lay back down trying to remember the details of his dream, but it had all slipped away from him.

He cursed. It was good up until the end.


	11. Unkown and Unsuspecting

"Boy, this bastard really liked polishing his sword" Unwise said as she closely examined the elite's blade.

They had paused after the battle to rest and eat. Shade was scanning the environment for any surviving gith. Cole was sitting next to a rock, surveying the wrecked airship.

"Just don't cut yourself" The bard said with a glance at Unwise.

"What, even the littlest nick will do you in?"

"Githyanki don't half-ass this sort of thing. I'm actually surprised that you were able to hold-off that elite"

Unwise rolled her eyes "My mum was a fencer. Damn good one too. She competed in tournaments all across the Feywild"

"And your father?"

"Farmer in the Gloaming Court. He taught me how to swear"

"Ah"

Shade tapped Cole's shoulder "Cole I'm picking up something in that house"

He pointed at one of the village cottages that the dreamer had run into.

"It doesn't feel like a Githyanki though. It's more...sinister" Shade said as he focused on the building.

Cole raised an eyebrow "And you didn't sense it earlier?"

Shade shook his head.

Cole frowned at the cottage. Suddenly a scream pierced the air. It emanated from the cottage. All three of them stood up and faced the direction of the house.

"It's leaving" Shade his eyes shifting to the garden behind the house "Just phased through the wall"

"I don't see anything" Unwise said as she squinted for the slightest bit of movement.

"Neither do I" Cole muttered.

"It's heading for the windmill on the edge of town" Shade said certain that whatever he was seeing wasn't Githyanki.

"The windmill is a shortcut" Unwise remarked as her eyes flitted to it.

"Anything give away that it knows we're here?" Cole asked.

Shade shook his head.

"Then let's follow it"

They all moved at once. Snatching up what little they had on the ground. Unwise strapped the silver sword to her back, Cole picked up his bag, and Shade grabbed his half empty healing potion and finished it. The bard and gnome fell in behind Shade as he was the only one who could "see" the creature. To him it appeared as a large red cloud. They ran after it, not at their fastest speed so as not to alert the entity to their presence, but at a quick enough pace that they were able to put a close enough distance between it and them.

They passed through the windmill. They were in military academy that was on fire. With no time to care about this they continued following Shade's trail. They passed effortlessly through the flames, they were just figments of this particular dream. Shade took a hard right into a weapon rack, another shortcut. The creature, whatever it was, never paused to examine its surroundings. It knew exactly where it was going.

They were in a massive kitchen now. Food littered the floor as well as many rodents. The rats were feasting on the dropped food and mating.

"Are we-?" Cole began as he took it all in.

"A rat's dream" Unwise said "Don't be a prude".

"It's climbing the counter" Shade said. His eyes were pointed straight up, utterly focused on their quarry.

The creature stalled only briefly in the transition between running on the ground and climbing the counter. Unwise was first to start scaling the wooden surface of the counter. A clear lifetime climber, she took to it like a spider as she climber upwards. Shade and Cole followed suit.

“Any idea what we’re chasing Cole?” Shade asked between finding footholds.

“It’s not a gith, we know that much. Another outsider like Unwise most likely”

“It’s clearly familiar with the realm” Shade said, his eyes continuously tracking to the shape above him “But I’m getting the feeling we’re dealing with more of a ‘what’ than a ‘who’”

The entity had pulled itself over the edge and onto the countertop. Shade lost visual of it.

“Unwise! Do you see a shortcut up there?” He called to the gnome. She had nearly finished the climb.

“Yeah, it’s a cheese box. Fitting for a rat”

In moments Shade and Cole had joined her. Shade took point again.

“Do you have an idea of what this is?” Cole asked Unwise.

“Not a clue” She shrugged “You bump into weirdos here all the time. My gold would be on one of those Vecna bastards. They always pull weird shit like this”

Cole scratched his head as he considered her words “That’s probably a safe bet”

“Oh, are we actually betting on this? Cause I got five gold burning a hole in my pocket” Unwise said.

“We’re going to lose it” Shade said bluntly.

The other two dropped the topic, though they silently displayed their wagers as they entered the next shortcut.

The chase went on for hours. They jumped through so many dreams that they all began to blur together. Their quarry never tired, paused, or stumbled. All they could do was keep pace behind it. If it knew they were there it showed no signs. The doorways between dreams became less clear as they went on. Where one dream ended another seemed to organically begin. Unwise noted that this is what happens when you pass into what she called the “Thought Space”, the inner circle of the realm where you passed between dreams that were no longer being had. It was a constantly shifting area. Like the elemental chaos there seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to why what was where. Cole remarked that being here meant that they were nearing the center of Aisling’Am.

They came to a stormy coastline. A strange reflection of the rocky beaches of Greyholm, but with the rocks turned to black obsidian. The sea was a soup of grey water and bone-colored foam.

Shade slowed his pace. His head turned with increasing anxiety. He soon stopped altogether. Cole and Unwise stopped behind him. Unwise was relieved at the moment to catch her breath. Before Cole could ask what was wrong Shade sprinted for a nearby rock that jutted several meters in the air like a half fallen pillar. From its summit his scanned the horizon in all directions.

“I lost it”

“Ain’t that a shame” Unwise collapsed to the ground to rest her feet.

“It really is” Cole buried his chin in his hand “I had the feeling we were on the verge of something grand”

“Grand in what way?” Unwise uncorked her flask.

“Something unknown or rare. Something few else have seen, and fewer others have documented”

“You wanted dibs on naming it?”

“Can’t hurt to have a legacy” Cole joked.

Shade came down from the rock looking disappointed.

“I was tracking it so carefully. I don’t know how I could’ve lost it”

“Cheer up” Cole placed his hand on the scarecrow’s shoulder “Just something for us to keep an eye out for”

“But what if we don’t see it again?”

“You really think _I’m_ going to leave before I find out what that was?” Cole raised his eyebrows.

The answer was satisfactory for Shade. They made a small camp on the beach. Unwise and Cole tapped into their provisions. Unwise carefully used her dagger to cut up an apple while Cole prepared a sandwich.

“Food is going to be an issue for me” Unwise talked with her mouth full “Wasn’t expecting to be hired as a guide, so I only brought a few days of food”

“Something I’ve been meaning to ask” Cole turned his eyes to the ocean “Texts about this plane are generally vague, can _any_ food be procured here?”

“Like if you dropped a line in that ocean, would you be able to reel in a live fish to cook up? Yeah. You can do that. It’d fill your belly like any _real_ meal”

“So why not-”

“-The problems will kick in when you leave the realm. Full belly in a dream isn’t a full belly in reality. Amatures will leave Aisling’Am and fall on their face because of the hunger pains hitting them all at once”

“So only a last resort then”

“It’s your ‘adventure’” Unwise shrugged.

After their brief rest the travellers headed west along the beach. The sky gave way to a thunderstorm, but no rain fell. Instead a silent bolt of lightning would fire from the sky every minute. Each thunderbolt froze when it struck the ground, freezing in a flat fractal of electricity that tethered the storm clouds to the beach. Cole paused the expedition to touch one of the bolts, journal in hand as he did. He was disappointed to find them little more than spectres that his hand passed through.

Past the field of bolts the beach curved to the right, becoming a peninsula. Jutting out of this landmass was another black rock, but this one was as thick as a house and extended far into the clouds.

“That’s our way out” Unwise pointed to the rock.

“It’s more than that” Shade squinted.

“Do you see our mystery creature?” Cole’s voice was tinged with hope.

“No. Something else. An actual person”

“That’s at least _of interest_ ” Cole smiled “Hostile?”

“No. Feels like they’re waiting for something. Some relief”

“Like I said” Unwise opened her flask “Weirdos tend to pop-up around this place”

“Does that ever empty?” Cole pointed to her flask.

“Nope. That’s why I like it” Unwise said.

The group progressed towards the peninsula. The clouds of static bolts was behind them, and now they were met with harsh salty sea air. Waves crash on either side of them. The black pillar stretched before them like an impossible stairway to heaven.

Where the peninsula ended and the rock began was a circle of standing stones. At the center of it was an otter woman. A keeonik wecher. She was sitting cross-legged with her eyes closed. Held tight in her hands was a flat staff that bent partway to resemble a wooden sickle. A keeonik battle stick. When the trio entered the circle of stones her eyes opened and she broke into a warm smile.

“Hail!” She called to them “Who among you thinks they can kill me?”


End file.
